


Toujours Pur

by Evandar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Underage Relationship(s), Cousin Incest, Family Drama, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius isn’t good at communicating with their parents, so it’s up to Regulus to defend their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toujours Pur

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Slashorific 2016, and based on the quote _"If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance"_ by George Bernard Shaw

He can see by the set of Sirius’ mouth and the tension in his shoulders that his older brother is about to do something incredibly stupid. 

For all that Sirius isn’t an idiot – he is, in fact, almost prodigiously bright – he still hasn’t learned how to communicate with their family. Sirius is loud and brash and prone to shouting (like mother) while the real power of the House of Black lies in sharp wits and cunning. They are, Sirius exempted, a family of Slytherins and near-Ravenclaws (Regulus knows as much from his own Sorting, and has suspicions about their father). Shouting will get Sirius nowhere.

Ironic, really, as it was his Gryffindor impulsiveness that got them into this situation in the first place. Certainly, Regulus had been prepared to keep his feelings to himself for the rest of his days; he would have been…not exactly happy, but content to marry as his family dictated and willing to spend his days as a sad mimicry of their father, dependant on whisky and a thick study door to keep his wife at bay.

He reaches out and takes Sirius’ hand in his own. His brother is shaking. There are spots of colour in Sirius’ cheeks, and his lips are pressed so tightly together that they’ve gone white. He’s _trying_ to hold back, and that more than anything gives Regulus the courage to step in. Sirius _needs_ him to. He _needs_ , and what Sirius needs, Regulus will do his best to supply.

They are... _more_ than simply brothers.

He tightens his fingers around Sirius’ trembling fist and tugs his brother back towards him, moving so that they are pressed tightly together. He can still smell sweat and the strawberry scent of lubricant on Sirius’ skin; can still feel the ache in his rear from Sirius stretching him open. Sirius had wiped his hand off on the sheets after they’d been found – after their mother had walked in and started _screaming_ \- but Regulus can still feel traces of slick between Sirius’ fingers. It’s enough to ground him, though he still feels like his heart is in his throat; this is _real_. What’s between them is _real_.

“Mother,” he says, “that is _enough_.”

He’s fairly sure that it’s the shock that shuts her up. Having grown up with Sirius clashing with their parents at every turn, Regulus has learned to keep his head down and his mouth shut. He is the good son, the _dutiful_ son – the son who, judging from their mother’s tirade, is the one being unfairly taken advantage of and corrupted by his terrible, wilful older brother. Bollocks to that: Sirius may have started it, but Regulus has been enthusiastic in his consent from start to, well, now.

Next to him, Sirius gives a soft huff, and from the corner of his eye, Regulus sees his father turn from where he stands at the window. He’s been peering down into the street, hands clasped behind his back, ever since their mother insisted that he come and join her in her outrage. In her fury, they are only their father’s sons, and that is a turn of phrase that churns within Regulus’ brain.

Half-hidden glances across a table, low voices conversing behind a closed doors; their father is a very private man and strange in his habits.

“Sirius hasn’t corrupted me, mother,” he says before she can start screaming at them again. “I love him. He loves me. That’s all there is to it.” Pressed against Sirius the way he is, he can feel some of the tension leaving him. They’ve said it before. They’ve whispered it in the dark, barely audible against each other’s lips; they’ve confessed it, shamefaced and desperate, in a hidden corridor in Hogwarts’ labyrinthine dungeons with Sirius’ fingers digging bruises into Regulus’ arms. 

( _“I love you. I want to be with you. But if you go to that – to that man – then you’ll never really be mine and gods, Reg, please don’t -”_ )

“You are _brothers_ ,” she hisses.

“And you are father’s cousin,” he replies. “Great-great-great grandfather Polaris kept it in the family as well and wed his half-sister Juno. We are purebloods, mother - _Toujours Pur_ \- we were always going to marry our relations, and we’re hardly the first to pair Black with Black.”

“Our marriage was arranged,” their father says. He sounds…it’s difficult to say, exactly, what the tone in his voice is, but it certainly isn’t anger. Amusement; perhaps a hint of reproach. 

“Due to some disgrace on mother’s part, perhaps?” Regulus asks, glancing at the woman in question. She is pale, save for the spots of red high on her cheeks, and in her rage she looks startlingly like Sirius. “Grandfather Pollux clearly had no opposition to wedding his children off to their cousins, so I can’t imagine him objecting to your liaisons with Uncle Alphard.”

The room is silent when he finishes speaking, save for their breathing, which sounds unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet. Sirius is staring at him. He hasn’t shared any of his suspicions with his brother – they were barely speaking to each other last summer, when Regulus became certain of them – and the subject of the state of their parents’ marriage hasn’t exactly been a talking point for them since. Why would it be? The slightest glance at the family tree reveals their family’s long history of incest, and the fact that their father can barely stand to be in the same room as their mother has been a fact of life since early childhood for them both. And the fact that Sirius – sweet Sirius, who’s designed for people to be upfront and honest – hasn’t been able to see it doesn’t mean that Regulus is wrong.

The slight quirk to his father’s mouth and the dark, furious look that their mother shoots at him is proof enough that he isn’t.

“Do you think my own transgressions make your own any better?” their father asks, glancing between them. 

“We can only live the examples set for us,” Regulus replies loftily, ignoring the fact that – incest aside – Sirius has spat in the face of every example that their family has set him so far. Hope springs eternal that maybe, just maybe, Regulus will be enough to make him stay. And if it isn’t…well, Regulus will follow him. Sirius claimed his loyalty with desperate words in a dungeon corridor, and no amount of parental disapproval is going to change that.

He looks back at his mother. “We are Blacks,” he says. “We are of the oldest and most noble magical family that still remains pure. _You_ taught us that – and truly, mother, you are right in that no one else could compare to us. So why try and force us to settle elsewhere when we have already chosen the best for ourselves?”

Sirius’ shoulders, still pressed close to Regulus’ own, tremble ever so slightly. Regulus fights to keep his own face straight even as he prays to all the gods – above and below – that Sirius doesn’t choose now to start laughing. Someone must have been listening, because Sirius manages to smother his hysteria and remain silent even as their mother snarls wordlessly and turns away. Regulus looks to their father. 

Quiet and reclusive, Orion Black may be, but he is the one with real power in their family. Only Grandfather Arcturus could ever overrule him, but he rarely deigns to bother himself with anything other than his books. _He_ is Paterfamilias in name only; their father is the one whose decisions become law.

Perhaps, it’s that their father can no more argue against the lessons of their childhood than their mother can. Or, perhaps, he sees the truth of their feelings written all over their faces as Regulus knows they must be, and decides that alienating both of his children might not be the best course of action.

“I’ll draw up a contract,” he says softly. Their mother rounds on him, teeth bared as she inhales sharply. Her wrath has just found a now target – fortunately for their father, his office door is thick and his locking charms are strong. “If you’re still serious about this after you’ve both graduated, it can be signed.”

It’s no guarantee. In fact, it sounds like their father quite expects them to just fuck it out of their systems and move on to greener pastures. Regulus knows that they won’t. He takes the tacit approval and the implied dismissal and drags Sirius out of the drawing room and back into the hall where Elf heads and ancestral portraits stare down their pointed noses at them. He’s won them a reprieve. It’s enough. 

The door closes as their mother begins screaming once more – their father the focus of her rage this time. Regulus closes his eyes and sways, and Sirius pulls him into his arms and _holds_ him. Their fingers are still linked. Regulus presses his nose into the dip of Sirius’ clavicle and breathes him in. His body still aches, and alone with his brother once more, the embers of his earlier desire begin to flare once more.

“You were brilliant,” Sirius murmurs into his hair. “Fucking beautiful when you take charge like that.”

Regulus smiles. He lifts his head so that he can meet Sirius’ gaze, and he’s not at all surprised to see his lust directed back at him. He can feel Sirius’ cock beginning to stir again against his belly. “Take me to bed, then,” he says, ignoring the mutterings of the portraits. “And finish what you started.”

“Whatever you want, baby brother,” he says, and with that Sirius kisses him – hard and deep and lewd enough to warrant an ‘I say!’ from one of their distant ancestors. It’s dizzying, and the rush of being able to do it freely in the daylight instead of hidden away in dark places is enough to make Regulus’ knees weaken.

He clings to Sirius as they make their way back upstairs to his room. He practically collapses onto his bed – still mussed and stained with lube from earlier – and he drags Sirius down on top of him. He parts his legs willingly to cradle Sirius’ hips as his brother starts stripping him of his clothes for the second time that day, and over his brother’s shoulder he catches sight of the family crest painted above his headboard, and he tangles his fingers in Sirius’ hair to drag him into a kiss.

They are _Toujours Pur_ indeed.


End file.
